


like your tongue going round, baby

by gdgdbaby



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Developing Commune, F/F, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 02:38:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14802773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gdgdbaby/pseuds/gdgdbaby
Summary: "My husband passed out on our wedding night, so I had sex with my best (girl) friend."





	like your tongue going round, baby

**Author's Note:**

> with thanks to emmlan for linking this [postsecret](https://www.instagram.com/p/BjSJ8BglQ0f/) and saying, "this has potential." premise tweaked a little here, but you get the idea. title, of course, from janelle monae's pynk.
> 
> one note: this is a developing commune story, wherein different permutations of #ot6 are moving toward commune status but no one's really defined it for all of them yet. if sanctioned infidelity isn't your thing, maybe skip this one!

Hanna isn't timing it (she's _not_ , honest to God) but Tommy passes out about two minutes after he finishes.

He sinks like a stone, draped on top of her, and doesn't stir, not even as she wiggles out from under him, presses a kiss to his sweaty temple. She's not mad about it, really — she'd come too, more than once after they'd swept out of the afterparty and back to their honeymoon suite — and she's not particularly surprised about it either. They've been together for long enough that she knows whenever Tommy's had this much wine, has already come, he's not long for consciousness. Thirty-seven year olds are predictable like that.

Still, it leaves her here: wide awake on the night of their wedding, feeling restless and electric beneath her skin, Tommy breathing evenly against the pillows. Outside, she can hear the faint sounds of myriad parties continuing in downtown Healdsburg. It's Saturday night deep in Wine Country, barely one in the morning, and the whole town's alive.

Hanna doesn't want to be out there, though — it takes her a minute to put a finger on what it is she _does_ want, what the swirl in her stomach and the tingle between her legs means, and before she can think about it too hard, she's pulling her phone off the dresser and texting Emily, _hey, you still up?_

She's just slid one hand down to cup herself when a new message notification buzzes through. _come over_ , Emily's sent back, and Hanna swallows briefly, exhales slowly before she climbs off the bed. She picks her skimpy negligee off the floor and tugs it back on, grabs a fluffy white robe from the bathroom and tucks her keycard into the pocket. Pads barefoot to the elevator, the low light making the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

It's four floors down to where Emily and Jon are staying. She doesn't run into anyone else while she's walking down the hall, which is good because she doesn't know how she'd explain this to other people; it's hard enough sometimes just trying to explain it to herself. _Sometimes I'll have sex with people that aren't my spouse, and he's okay with it_ doesn't seem quite right when she's seen the way Tommy looks at Jon and Lovett sometimes. When she knows how she feels now, ears ringing as she closes the distance to room 203. It's more complicated than that.

Hanna's barely knocked on the door when it flies open. Emily's pink and flushed, still in the pretty backless sundress she'd been wearing at the afterparty. The skirt's rumpled, like it'd been rucked up around her middle moments ago, and Hanna's mouth waters a little despite herself.

"Hey, babe," Emily says, grinning and stepping back. "Come on in." The lights are still on inside their hotel room, and Emily's eyes are bright. "He fall asleep?" she continues, leaning against the wall as Hanna slides the door shut behind her and nods. "That's relatable. Why'd we marry thirty-somethings again?"

Hanna laughs, feeling more settled with Emily twinkling at her. "Where'd yours go?"

"Across the hall," she says casually, but Hanna knows all the room assignments, and — oh, okay. That makes sense. Ronan had had to leave the reception early that evening, was probably halfway back to New York by now to chase down a source. _You're lucky he put in an appearance at all_ , Lovett said blandly over the second course, shaking his head. He'd made a big show of preferring this new arrangement by loudly appropriating the rest of Ronan's dinner (" _Two_ steaks," he crowed, chin in hand), but if it'd sucked for Tommy and Hanna seeing Ronan go, she could only imagine how much it sucked for Lovett.

"That's good," Hanna says, taking a step forward into Emily's space. "Lovett should have someone right now."

"Yeah," Emily says, breath warm and gentle against Hanna's cheek. "So should you."

Emily reaches up to undo the knot at the front of Hanna's bathrobe, pushes it off her shoulders to pool around her feet. The negligee she'd picked out months ago is sheer and black, and Hanna hadn't bothered to pull her underwear back on beneath it. It's also torn a little near the arm from when Tommy had yanked it off her, earlier. Hanna feels hot all over just thinking about it. She resists the urge to cross her arms, squirm away from the scrutiny; the whole point is to be seen.

"Nice," Emily says. She bites down on her glossy lower lip as she gives Hanna a slower onceover, and then she slides an arm around Hanna's waist and pulls her in to kiss her.

It's not gentle; it's the kiss of someone who's been worked up for a while, and Hanna responds in kind, reaching up beneath the skirt of Emily's dress and digging her fingers into the bare skin of her hips. They've done this before, and Tommy knows, but part of it still feels secret, somehow, kind of illicit, this small private thing that they get to have with each other.

They're both panting when the kiss breaks, a faint pulse spreading up from between Hanna's legs to tingle in her stomach. "Bed?" Emily says, smiling with teeth, sharp with intent.

Hanna's voice only trembles a little when she says, "Lead the way," and follows after.

Emily settles Hanna against the headboard before stripping off entirely. She's not wearing underwear either, tits bouncing as she climbs onto the bed, and Hanna clocks the beginning of beard burn pink against the tops of Emily's thighs. She'd sent jon away, then, when she'd gotten Hanna's message. Something about that makes Hanna's entire body flush again.

"Sorry I interrupted you and Jon," she says.

Emily just shakes her head, that toothy smile still on her face. "I know you'll make it worth my while," she says, and slides down to tug Hanna's legs apart.

Tommy had eaten Hanna out, earlier, with the type of meticulous care he brings to anything that matters to him, and she'd come a third time while he was fucking her into the mattress upstairs, so she hisses when Emily touches the tip of her tongue to her clit, over-sensitive and shivery. "Fuck," Hanna says, throaty.

Emily turns her head to kiss along the soft seam of Hanna's thigh. "Did he come in you?" she murmurs, so conversational that she could be asking about brunch recommendations for tomorrow morning.

The idea of Emily licking Tommy's jizz out of her makes her feel dizzy, the ache between Hanna's legs stretching tight. "I — yeah, he did," Hanna manages, and lets out a loud, high noise when Emily ducks back down to curl her tongue inside her.

It's hard not to lose time when Emily gets like this, that single-minded focus trained on her. Jon's like that, too; sometimes Hanna daydreams about watching them fuck each other, wonders if the intensity rises exponentially in that feedback loop, the way she would expect it to. Wonders if they think about her, too, about Tommy making her scream, about Hanna riding Tommy so excruciatingly slow that there are tears at the corners of his eyes by the time he finishes. She hopes so.

Emily pulls off with a slick pop, sticks her tongue out for a moment so Hanna can see the remnants of Tommy's come mixed in with her wetness. "Jesus, Em," Hanna says, desire lodged tight in her chest, and moans when Emily licks into her again, faster now.

Hanna comes without warning, Emily's mouth warm and insistent, two fingers sliding to join her tongue, pushing in deep and curling up. Emily doesn't let up, even when Hanna's hips buck and her head clunks back against the wood behind it. Hanna reaches down to cup Emily's face, twist her fingers through the flyaway pieces of her hair, and Emily glances up to meet her gaze, eyes heavy-lidded.

Emily's humping the mattress a little, a slow, circular grind, like she can't help it. Hanna wants to taste her so much she can barely breathe.

It hurts when Hanna comes again, her whole body trembling through it. "Okay," she gasps, pushing Emily's head away, rising unsteadily to her knees. "Okay, my turn."

She kisses Emily first, tastes herself and, faintly, Tommy, and then nudges Emily onto her back, spreads her legs. Emily's so wet already, pussy pink and dripping, and she hisses when Hanna licks a broad stripe up to her clit, gathering moisture on her tongue, savoring the tangy flavor. Emily smells like wine and clean sweat and sex, and Hanna wants to bury herself in it. It's hard to be patient when she just wants to make Emily come already.

Hanna licks deeper, sucking lightly on Emily's clit, and Emily sighs, thighs flexing around Hanna's face. Hanna loves having sex with Tommy, loves the way he can swing her around and hold her up like it's nothing, but she loves this too, the sweet sounds Emily makes when she's close, the way Emily parts for Hanna's tongue and her hands. It seems incredible that she gets to have all of it, that she gets to see Emily spread out across the bed, her hair fanned against the sheets, the long line of her neck held taut and quivering as she teeters on the edge.

"Hanna," Emily says, raspy, "baby, come on," and Hanna slides her tongue as deep as she can, sucks hard, lets her teeth flirt against the hard nub of Emily's clit, and — that's it, that's all it takes. Emily cries out and squeezes her legs, squirming up against Hanna's mouth and the grip of her fingers. Hanna keeps going, relentless, and a flood of wetness crests over Hanna's tongue when Emily jerks and comes again, chest heaving, face twisted into a grimace of pleasure.

Hanna's chin is a mess when she pulls back and tries to wipe it off, but Emily tugs her back in anyway, presses their mouths together. Hanna finally feels wrung out, limbs heavy and slack as she pants against Emily's lips. She shouldn't sleep here, should try to drag herself back upstairs, but Emily rolls on top of her and pins her to the mattress, her mouth tilted upward as she leans down to suck a mark into Hanna's neck, and it's nothing at all to drift off into the feeling.

 

 

Dawn light is filtering through the crack in the blackout curtains when a hand shakes Hanna awake. She makes a groggy noise and lifts her head to see Jon peering back at her, hair soft and mussed. Emily's still curled up in a ball beneath the covers, fast asleep.

"Hey," Jon says. Hanna squints up at him; she can see beard burn on his neck, the pink tips of his ears and the concerned slant of his eyebrows. "Sorry, I was about to go out for a run, but — should I go get Tommy?"

"No," Hanna says, shaking her head. "No, I'll go to him."

It doesn't occur to her to be concerned about how to get back to the honeymoon suites without being seen until she's pulling her bathrobe back on and stepping through the door. She shouldn't have worried, though; it's still and quiet out in the hallway. Figures. It's barely six in the morning, and everyone on this floor is probably still sleeping off their wine hangovers.

She takes the stairwell instead of the elevator this time, climbs up four flights, the slap of her bare feet echoing against the cold cement. She's breathing a little hard as she swipes into their room. Tommy stirs when she slides into bed with him, one eye cracking open, and mumbles, gravelly and apologetic, "Did I pass out on you? Shit, Hanna."

Hanna tucks herself in next to him and says, "Yeah, you did," and then: "but Emily took care of it, so. It's okay."

The corner of Tommy's mouth lifts. "She's good at that," he says. "Taking care of things." He throws his arm over her waist. "Sleep?"

"Yeah," Hanna repeats, yawning. She slips back under.

 

 

It's brighter the next time she opens her eyes. Hanna wakes up to movement underneath the covers, and the feeling of Tommy's tongue, his nose nuzzling the hair at her crotch, fingers flexing around her thighs. "Morning to you, too," she says, pushing her hair out of her face, and Tommy's laugh rumbles all the way through her. "We're gonna be late for brunch," she continues, but she can't help rolling her hips up against the wet press of Tommy's mouth, so she's pretty sure he knows she doesn't mind.

"I gotta make up for last night." Tommy's red and smiling when he pops up from beneath the comforter. "Will they blame us?"

Hanna laughs, shivers when one of Tommy's thumbs pushes against her hip, sparks already swirling in the pit of her stomach. "No, they won't," she says, reaching out to sink her hands in his hair, and guides his head back down.


End file.
